


of plums and promises

by sheregenerated



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aren't they always?, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Prom, Queer Prom, Queer Themes, first half kinda angsty with it ends super sweet i promise, graham and ryan chaperoning, graham and ryan shipping thasmin, oblivious gays, sloshed saturday, thasmin discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheregenerated/pseuds/sheregenerated
Summary: The Doctor sat with her, listened to her, saw her burden and helped her carry it. It was never an easy thing, but with the Doctor at her side, knowing and accepting her, it was just a tiny bit more bearable. So Yaz opened up about everything, she kept going, pressing past race and religion and marching into the uncharted territory of mental health. She shared how it had gotten so bad that she ran away, that she didn’t remember stretches of that year, that she missed out on prom and so many other things that she should have, not that she would have ever had the guts to take a girl to the prom. She wasn’t sure she’d meant to go there, to mention that she didn’t just like men, that she had a special place in her heart for the fairer sex. A special place for one in particular–
Relationships: Thasmin - Relationship, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22
Collections: Sloshed Saturday





	of plums and promises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HalfBakedPoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfBakedPoet/gifts).



Yaz woke to the feeling of the beaded fabric where her sheets should be. This did not suit her sleepy mind’s depiction of reality and only pulled her further and further from her state of dreaming. Turning onto her side, she pried her eyes open to face the anomaly. A tingling spread through her body as she stretched awake, her fingers pressing into the fabric. It was cool to the touch and crumpled between her fingers as she pushed herself up off the mattress and the offending object came into full view.

The TARDIS brought up the lights enough for her to see the long gown with silver beaded fabric sparkling even in the dim lighting. Like a thousand stars, the entirety of the galaxy packed onto one canvas. Her eyes followed her fingers, tracing across the fabric like lines in a map before her eyes fell on the flowers on her bedside table along with a card. She scooted up toward the headboard and took the card into her hand, pulling it closer to read, a slow smile spreading across her face as she did so.

Before Yaz had gone to bed, the Doctor had found her with her knees pulled in tight against her chest, her mind far from the blue box she called home. The Doctor, in spite of her knack for being awkward and shying away from the personal, had come to join her in silence. It may have been awkward for her, but for Yaz she was glad to have someone to just sit beside her. Being there for her without prying or pushing to talk before she was ready. It had the comforting effect of making her _want_ to open up, to share parts of her she kept locked away.

The Doctor had plenty of those, she was sure, and it helped to know that as they sat in silence. Yaz wanted the Doctor to open up to her, she wanted to know everything about the enigmatic woman, but she couldn’t ask that of her if she wasn’t willing to do the same. She knew she didn’t have to remind the Doctor who Izzy was, her tormentor, for she’d retained and repeated that information back in Lancashire. She knew that she’d been bullied in school, but she didn’t know the extent. She didn’t know the toll it had taken on her.

But the Doctor sat with her, listened to her, saw her burden and helped her carry it. It was never an easy thing, but with the Doctor at her side, knowing and accepting her, it was just a tiny bit more bearable. So Yaz opened up about everything, she kept going, pressing past race and religion and marching into the uncharted territory of mental health. She shared how it had gotten so bad that she ran away, that she didn’t remember stretches of that year, that she missed out on prom and so many other things that she should have, not that she would have ever had the guts to take a girl to the prom. She wasn’t sure she’d meant to go there, to mention that she didn’t just like men, that she had a special place in her heart for the fairer sex. A special place for one in particular– she’d caught herself before she’d gone there, but she was afraid it was written on her face and looked away.

But in spite of her fears of being rejected for who she was, the Doctor didn’t judge her or say what Yaz had been so anxious about– that she might deduce what she’d been thinking. That she might have seen those words she’d just barely caught before they escaped her lips. Her fear that she might take that information one step further and see right past her brown irises to her molten heart that was entirely and unconditionally hers to break. Yaz was in love with the Doctor– she’d accepted that hopeless aspect of herself– but she couldn’t admit that. Not when she wasn’t sure the Doctor wouldn’t pull away from her. She didn’t think the Doctor would hate her, but she wasn’t about to pour her heart out if she thought it might slip right between her fingers.

Yaz knew that her time with the Doctor would one day come to an end, for one reason or another, and she couldn’t bear to think about that day coming without telling her how she felt. She couldn’t have this wonderful story end without her ever knowing that she was loved. She tried to hide it, but Yaz paid more attention to the time lord than she knew. She saw behind those walls she kept up, always keeping her best friends, her fam, at arm’s length. It was always a challenge, getting her to reveal anything personal, and Yaz liked to think she was starting to do it on her own, but she knew it was just wishful thinking. The Doctor sometimes volunteered information, but it was always fleeting– without detail– and always in a situation where they were distracted by danger or something that pulled them from the topic before Yaz could even process what she’d said.

The silence seemed to stretch for hours as both women were deep in their own thoughts. She’d kept the words to herself, a lifeline, but it still felt like a confession, something personal and vulnerable and written on her skin like a tattoo. Permanent, forbidden, easily hidden but impossible to remove, the ink running deep into her skin until it was impossible to tell where it ended and began. So Yaz broke the silence, trying for a joke to cut through the tension. She pointed at a cluster of stars out the TARDIS doors and said it looked like an army of bunnies. Probably off to battle with the death eye turtle army in a colossal interstellar war. But the Doctor didn’t share her dry laugh, she just stared at Yaz until her cheeks burned.

The sound of shifting fabric alerted Yaz to the fact the Doctor was probably about to make a run for it, but instead, she held out a plum. Yaz looked down at it, then up to meet the Doctor’s gaze for the first time since opening up. She raised her eyebrows, prompting some semblance of an explanation. “A plum?” she asked when the Doctor offered none.

“Yes,” her eyebrows pulled together and a familiar crease pressed into her skin. Yaz could see the weight of her confession deepening the lines on her face. Or perhaps it was something else, something of the Doctor’s that she had yet to share except, apparently, in the form of a fruit. “Do you not like plums? I love a good plum! Jam-packed full of antioxidants, great on toast, second only to pineapple on pizza, and––”

“No, plums are… great,” Yaz spared the Doctor her rambling and took the plum into her hand. She couldn’t help but quirk her lip a bit at the uniquely Doctor response. She looked back up to her friend, who seemed to be very invested in her response to said gift. “Thanks, Doctor.”

The Doctor seemed pleased with the response and gave a curt nod before turning back out to look outside the TARDIS doors. “Plums are a very important fruit, Yaz,” she went on and Yaz turned the plum about in her hands to busy them. “Plum blossoms bloom most vibrantly against the winter snow. They represent perseverance and hope even when it seems like everything’s coming to an end, there’s always the promise of tomorrow.”

Yaz pressed the note to her chest as the words etched themselves into her mind: _will you go to the plum with me?_ The Doctor was such a dork but she was Yaz’s dork. She put the note back on the dresser and started to get ready, embracing her shameless grin in the confines of her bedroom. She went through her usual morning routine before adding on the extra effort of primping herself for the occasion. She sometimes experimented with new hairstyles, but this time she put in a bit more effort to make sure it wasn’t just cute, but elegant as well. Dark brown curls pulled back into a low bun, a few selective strands hanging to frame her face, and accented with petite flowers the Doctor had left her.

It had been that level of detail that sent Yaz’s butterflies in a flurry, for not only had the Doctor asked her to the prom, but she’d put an immense amount of thought in just the small bit she’d seen thus far. Yaz was excited to see what else she had pulled together for her and imagined a Doctor moving at lightning speed to drape streamers around the tardis and put together lighting schemes and music. She wondered if the Doctor was waiting for her now, anxious and pacing, or if she was scrambling to finish preparing for Yaz’s arrival. It was then that Yaz realized she had no idea what room she was supposed to go to for this prom. As she slipped on her heels, she decided the Doctor would probably have something up her sleeve. Perhaps she was standing outside the door right now, patiently waiting for her human companion to be ready?

She was not, though Yaz was greeted with a trail of plum blossoms leading down the corridor. She followed the path until she reached the ballroom– or _a_ ballroom, at least. Yaz had barely taken in the decorations, the continued theme of plums and stars throughout the room when her eyes fell on the Doctor. She was pacing, her lips moving as Graham and Ryan seemed to be engaged with her as she wore a path out on the floor. Yaz approached them and Graham must have said something to knock her out of her state, for the Doctor turned to acknowledge her arrival, and she damn near had to scrape her jaw off the floor. Yaz beamed, aware of the two men in suits, but eyes solely on the Doctor.

Yaz stopped just a couple feet from the Doctor, though something pulled her to move closer. The two stared at each other so long that Graham and Ryan engaged in a side conversation far beyond Yaz’s recognition. They had clearly all been here for hours, all to bring this wonderful event together for Yaz, yet she couldn’t bring herself to move her lips and thank them. She was too caught in the Doctor’s orbit, sinking hopelessly into her hazel-green eyes that seemed to be entirely captured by Yaz. Cheeks flushed pink as her lips spread into a smile that threatened to crack her face. It wasn’t until Ryan started playing music that the Doctor snapped to attention, falling into her carefully rehearsed plan. Yaz placed her hand in the Doctor's and the two stepped out onto a dance floor reserved for them.

Graham and Ryan watched the two dance, the fruits of their labor embodied in the Doctor and Yaz’s embrace, swaying to the music that Ryan and Graham had argued over during their setup. But in the end, it didn’t matter, because as long as the Doctor and Yaz were having a good time, it was all worth it. Didn’t stop them from hedging bets, though, and taking a break once things kicked off. Yaz and the Doctor were lost to the world, no danger or drama to intercept their moments. They didn’t even notice the flash of the camera when the boys took pictures. They were goners. They hardly even spoke, from what Ryan and Graham could see, but as much as they did, they seemed to blink even less. Their gaze was so strong that Ryan and Graham even debated who would blink first, finding some amusement in this situation they’d worked so hard to create. Their plans went far beyond the Doctor’s idea to throw a prom for Yaz, they’d been trying to get those two together for _months_. But they were as hopelessly oblivious they were hopelessly in love. But there was always the promise of tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> a big thank you to my kiwi for test reading <3 <3  
> and gifted to HBP cuz plum <3 <3
> 
> The art should be up on my Redbubble if you want an unwatermarked version!   
> https://www.redbubble.com/people/sheregenerated/shop


End file.
